


We Were Made

by KittyM



Series: We Were (Soul mates) [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3512006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyM/pseuds/KittyM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke always knew she would see the ground; it was all written on her collarbone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Were Made

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmates AU because who doesn't love soulmates? 
> 
> Soulmates whereby they have their soulmates name marked on them.

Clarke always knew she would see the ground; it was all written on her collarbone. It’s not uncommon for someone to not know initially who their name is, after all Bellamy’s _Octavia_ had been a mystery for 16 years, and had since changed the day the hundred was formed. For others it was said that the name only appears when each is ready, her father had always said that when they read the old books overlooking the sky deck. She was the first child in eighty years they said, which had been born with her name. _Lexa_ , boxed in very solid black lines was the four letters _L-e-x-a_ just below the dip of her collarbone. It had been a fairly obvious placing; the most obvious Clarke had personally ever heard of, her father had no answer for why the names are placed where they are. Clarke always assumed it was a symbol for how obvious their love would feel. However this might be wishful thinking- her parents each had their names on their backs, and they were fine.

At the age of seven, a little clumsy Clarke stole her mum’s library pass when she rushed off the treat burns on a girl called Raven. Clarke had been sitting in Abby’s office, as a sort of fun exercise as Abby teaches her a bit about what it’s like to be a medic. There had been a lot of yelling, Abby grabbed the bag with the red plus on it, and had called for an engineer. Children on the ark hardly ever got hurt, so Clarke figured it was a pretty big deal.

The girl’s parents had pulled Abby, and in no more than twenty seconds Clarke was left alone in a big person room, with no more than the distant blurry words of  “we turned around for a minute” and “what was she even doing with wires”.

It wasn’t very common to be left alone, even less so if you were younger, she really could of done anything. Faced with the most freedom she’d felt in her entire life, little Clarke could of burned the place down, or rationed herself more chocolate (she only found out later that despite what she had been told, her mother was not in charge of the chocolate rations, and that she really shouldn’t of cleaned her room that one time). So in reality what she did wasn’t really such a bad thing, she just swiped the plastic card that sat lazily on the bookshelf. It was a paper-thin square of plastic, so light, it didn’t even feel heavy in her pocket.

When her dad eventual came to get her, Clarke had been scribbling on the back of whatever paper surrounded her, she had drawn in class before, but this was the first time she had felt so incredibly giddy, that she had to do something about it or she feared she would explode. Like the insignificantly light sheet of plastic was her key, her door, into knowing what her life entailed, finding out there was something more. She couldn’t wait to use it tonight, and she couldn’t wait to tell Wells.

Clarke was 12 when she first when into the library, and she never did tell Wells, even after she was done. Of course she nearly mentioned it to him a couple times, there were two libraries after all, the general one, and the special access one.

 “But wouldn’t it be cool if we just saw it?” Clarke would say during the breaks at school.

 “No, its restricted for a reason,”

 “What am I going to do? Throw a heavy book at someone?”

 “It’s not about that, my dad always says knowledge is power, anyway it’s not allowed. Can’t have my only friend floated now can I?”

The conversation would always die down that; a small grin, a tap of the shoulder, and a mention of floating. There were other places that she wanted to go, other restricted places. But for these other places she didn’t have her plastic sheet of freedom for.

The night she finally went her parents were distracted because of the huge fight they had, she had gotten less clumsy, her collarbone was itchy, she stopped thinking so much, and just- left. It was surprisingly easy to slip into the library, probably because she was small, and because it was late. But it felt to Clarke like the Ark, or perhaps the stars around her were pulling for her. 

The library shelves were too high, and the number system was foreign and even as she began to work it out it was difficult. They had learnt in class the number system for the library, and this wasn’t that at all.  She reasoned that she had maybe two hours before she should head back. Two hours would be easy enough to explain to her parents. She could have been making out with Wells, or Raven, children aged 12 were known for sneaking out for that all the time, even it their names did not match.

Although Clarke had a goal, she stumbled upon a section of books that showed paintings and critiqued them. A lot of them were violent, a lot depicting what was labelled as “revolutions”- it was easy to understand why they were hidden. But a lot of them were not. A lot were beautiful drawings of the ground, in sharp detail, or as swirls of colour. It filled Clarke with a longing and empty burning at the back of her chest for all the things she will not see; it was easy to understand why they were hidden too. A lot of the painting had people not wearing a whole lot, although it made Clarke’s checks pink, she didn’t really get why they were hidden. But she didn’t have time to dwell. She had a goal.

She had broken her rule and stayed two and a half hours before she read cover to cover what she was looking for. The comprehensive ‘family tree’ of the Ark. Written with brief family history beside each name, was a list of everyone who was living, and who had lived on the ark. Complete with not a single Lexa. Assuming her soulmate wasn’t twelve year younger than her, they were not on the Ark. Which meant they were somewhere else, somewhere dow-  Clarke carefully placed the family tree back in its box, on its shelf, and with all her suspicions confirmed, feeling elated she hover back to bed.

That night she drew on the back of her plastic sheet, she drew her faceless Lexa; genderless (though something told her female), and amongst the overwhelming nature that littered the ground brighter than her stars. First child in eighty years to be born with her name they’d told her, if her Lexa was out there, on the ground, she was going to find her. Clarke slipped the plastic sheet, her plastic Lexa that promised her freedom, onto some thread and pulled her neck through. She was old enough now to have belongings, and she wanted this on her always. Just as she lay down to sleep a heavy siren began to scream, red flashed outside her window and in a panic her heart sank. Her stomach sank, her throat, the blood in her hands, her whole body felt lopsided with fear as it slowly rose to the roof, the gravity had momentarily been compromised. As expected the sirens soon shut of as her body felt in a heap on her bad. But her reality came crashing down with her. Yes she would find her Lexa, if she didn’t float first.

       

* * *

 

When the Commander dies its spirit made it’s way to the next chosen, it’s always a child, and they’re always seven days old. It happens after the naming ceremony; on the child’s seventh day of life its parents assign someone they respect to name the child. A few other rituals happen, an elder gives a cot, the village blesses the family, but for Lexa and the other 318 seven-day-old children that day, the naming ceremony was the most important. It is accepted, that to the gods’ names hold special significance. In the commander’s dying breath it is said that they can see all their lives before them, and they utter the name they will have in the next life.

So it’s assumed that when Lexa’s parents chose her brother to name his seven day old sibling, that the god’s gave the name Lexa to him, the name uttered on the commander’s death bed. Just as it is assumed that the gods give every child, when they have earned it their other name. 

When the commander’s guards came and pronounced that Lexa was the commander, no one was surprised. Lexa had been born with her other name, A single brown stroke that carried the whole name _Clarke_ and a small star coming off the _e_ , on the back of her hand to visible at all times, especially when she held a sword. The commander is always born with their other name, usually with a small symbol. It is known that after the commander’s spirit finds a new body for their name, along with their other’s, to become common, its as if the names Clarke and Lexa have now been blessed. The small symbol is used to help differentiate them, the gods are not so unkind as to not account for other Lexa’s and Clarke’s to find each other.

 

* * *

 

Clarke and the hundred fall to the ground and everything falls into place, she can feel the heat radiating off her collarbone and the green of everything makes her feel so much, its almost as if her brain get scrambled by the air and the smell and how refreshingly open everything feels. Of course she’s persistent to move quick to Mount Weather. She was always destined for the ground; she’s hardly going to die from dehydration, when she’s just got there; before she gets to find her Lexa. It doesn’t take much to convince a small group to come with her to Mount Weather, it seems that they too, want to live a little longer on the ground.

While she thinks the others are sleeping on their first night on the ground Clarke quickly replaced the long worn out thread holding her plastic Lexa with part of a vine. So that her plastic sheet becomes a little less synthetic, and little more like the ground; like Lexa. She gets it over her head and it’s resting comfortable against her chest when she hears the footsteps of someone behind her. Clarke struggles to tuck her plastic Lexa into her shirt before the intruder realises they’ve been found out and says something.

 “Your name is obvious,” It’s Octavia, unsurprising that she would be up, this day is even more freeing for her than anyone else. She points up to Clarke’s collar, she’d look and see if it was exposed, but she knows it is, she can feel the air against it, her name feels as if it’s vibrating tonight. Clarke knows her name is obvious, she’s been told that since she was born, what’s not obvious is why Octavia cares

 “The way you’ve drawn them on that card makes it look like you think they live on the ground,” Octavia continues walking up closer to Clarke she looks at her eyes waiting for her to respond.

Clarke’s been waiting five years for someone to suggest that her soul mate lives on the ground, and all she can do it stare back at Octavia who is alarmingly close in a way that makes her face heat up, and her breath hitch. Her plastic Lexa has been hers for so long it would be wrong to share her. So she holds her ground but allows Octavia to pull at the vine so she gets a view at her plastic sheet of freedom.

 “It’s a pretty drawing,” Octavia’s voice sounds earnest, and Clarke releases a breath because Octavia isn’t mocking her, or stealing it. She thinks simultaneously that it’s nice for someone to know her Lexa is on the ground, and that her Lexa is definitely female as Clarke’s eyes flick back from Octavia’s lips, she makes a note to draw on long hair.

 “We’re not dead yet, which means others could be living here too,” Clarke says feeling hopeful and bold.

Octavia backs off a little and pulls up her top a bit, and pulls down her pants a bit, revealing her hipbone, there’s seven letters unlike anything Clarke has seen before. She’s seen a bit of Chinese, and Japanese, which are the only languages she knows of that doesn’t look anything like the English alphabet. But whatever is on Octavia’s hip doesn’t resemble them at all.

The disbelief must be written on Clarke’s face because Octavia quickly covers herself and breaks her eye contact with Clarke.

 “You’re not the only one secrets. I got that the day I was arrested,” She composes herself and looks back at Clarke, “You heard Bellamy, we can do what we want now, we’ll find them,”

Her eyes are so hopeful and so wild that Clarke can’t help but feel inspired, they’re still going to find Mount Weather and bring the others to the ground, because she’s lived on the Ark her whole life, and she needs them with her. But she feels so uniformly sure that this is exactly where she meant to be. Octavia breaks her thoughts and asks why Clarke keeps the plastic card, Clarke tells her its makes her chest feel light knowing her soul mate would be on the ground, it serves as a constant reminder.

Octavia bursts out laughing because the name _Lexa_ is literally permanently on her collar. Clarke ends up laughing too, but she draws Octavia’s foreign lettered name on Bellamy’s stolen guard badge with a faceless man and trees behind him.

Octavia keeps the badge until the day she learns how to write Lincoln in Trigedasleng, it’s then that she doesn’t need any more proof that her life is on the ground.

That night, that first night one the ground, when Clarke eventually does sleep, she absentmindedly ghosts her fingers across the printed _Lexa_ on her collarbone. She’s never felt more in tune with her own skin, and pulls out a pocket mirror so she can once again gaze longingly at _L_ exa. She knows it’s rare but not impossible for some names to have a symbol as well, which is why she never concerned herself too much with Lexa being in a box. But reflected back at her now is her _L-e-x-a_ but with a small star after the _a_. Clarke can’t help but feel a terrible weight crushing her chest, like she has made a terrible mistake and the cosmos is telling her she belongs in the empty sky. She pulls out her plastic Lexa, and can’t bring herself to imagine all that ground imagery replaces with space. As her collarbone vibrates yet again Clarke remembers her dad and those old books and thinks to herself that this little star means she’s now ready, and wills herself to believe that that is what the star means.

 

 

* * *

 

Most commanders meet their other name the day they graduate training and become a warrior. It is legend that each body only holds half spirit, so that you have your name, and your other name, which the gods’ write, on your skin when you have earned it. That’s not to say that the same halves of spirits spend each life finding each other for all eternity, only the commander reincarnates. But it is understood that life is lesser lived without your other name.

It becomes a priority, after training, that you find your other, there are many fulfilling things in life but it’s understood that you need to be whole- it raises morale. As the commander’s other name is well known, most commanders’ other is found as soon as their skin shows the commander’s name. Of course then they wait until sufficient training has been mastered, and then they can be together.

Lexa finished her training at 12 but no has any news on her other. She pretends not to worry; there are many clans and many threats, war is no time to suggest you are not whole. But she is still young and wants to be loved, she muses to Anya every now and then that perhaps the star is a snowflake and that her other name lives with the ice nation.

“Do not wish anymore for your Clarke to be of the Ice nation, if the Queen finds out, you will never meet,” Anya says helping Lexa take off all her armour, she’s 14 and just fought front line in her first real battle.

“I wish for her to be somewhere,” Lexa doesn’t elaborate but Anya understands, she wants a reason to live through all this war.

Lexa barely gets to 19 before she decides to never look for Clarke. There are plenty of things above human attachment; survival, passing of knowledge, being remembered in honour.

Costia was never hers, but she pretended, it mocked the gods and now the gods mock her. Three grave things happen all at once to Lexa when she 19 because of her restlessness, Costia dies dishonourably, Anya disappears, and there is reports of a new clan who seemingly dropped out of the sky which is apparently a threat. It doesn’t shock Lexa when she wakes up one morning and her _Clarke_ appears to have brown box enclosing the name and the little star at the end of the _e_. As if her Clarke is now trapped. She’s knows she did this.

Lexa toys with the idea of tattooing over her other name, it would be easy to fill in the box; or wearing armour that covers the back of her right hand. Indra however tells her that it is a great symbol of strength that the gods gave her such a visible other name. It wouldn’t be a good example she supposes if she filled in her other name, those names are the source of so much happiness; her people need it, even if she does not.

 

* * *

 

Of course Clarke is happy when the rest of the Ark joins them, she’s numb from the losses, she’s anxious, and filled with heavy guilt at the people she left in Mount Weather but she sees so many of the Ark that she never thought to care that she’d never see again, that it feels unbelievably nice to have people _her_ people fill the ground like the stars.

She wanted to find her before they all followed the hundred down, to have a life with her Lexa and show them all what she was meant for. But she’s had no luck, and despite there involvement it sending them all down to die, she can’t find it in herself to be unhappy that they’re all here.

She hears of her name before she sees her. It’s Octavia who tells her. They’re not really friends but she’s glad she’s alive, glad she found Lincoln, and Clarke feels this unwritten understanding between them that they were meant for the ground and are linked by being the first members of the not quite grounders not quite Sky people club. Although admittedly Octavia is probably more grounder, and Clarke is probably more Sky.

Octavia is shocked when Clarke hugs her, but accepts it, and asks to speak with her privately.

“I threw out Bellamy’s badge with your drawing,” is the first thing she says when they sneak away and talk just outside camp, Clarke doesn’t understand the relevance, or how she could just throw the badge away, but she is open for Octavia to explain herself.

“Ummm, okay,”

“I found him, its Lincoln in Trigedasleng, that’s their language,” Octavia looks bold and she’s happy, and Clarke is proud but feels saddened by her own failure to find Lexa, and the depressing thought that if she found her, would it matter.

“I knew you’d be a grounder,” Is all Clarke can say, is doesn’t really matter what she says Octavia’s mood won’t change. And it shouldn’t, Clarke decides.

Octavia indulges a bit more in a few details about him, strong, caring, compassionate, all the usual qualities that makes a heart sing. Then she gathers herself and steps steadily towards Clarke. It like that first day on the ground, and for Clarke, Octavia she guesses it will become another first. Clarke doesn’t blush this time when she comes close; she’s not as innocent now. But she does let her take her plastic Lexa, and lets her draw on it, she writes a few letters and draws elaborate eye shadow on Clarke’s faceless woman.

“That’s ‘Lexa’ in Trigedasleng,” Octavia points to the newly written letters, “that’s her war paint,” Octavia then roughly takes her hand and writes a few letters surrounded by a box and a small star. “And that’s what her name, well I guess your name looks like, well that’s it in Trigedasleng, I’m unsure if it’s in English or not, Lincoln says its usual for warriors to have theirs in English,”

Clarke looks down at her hand and feels as if she’s jumped 10 meters whilst being stapled to the ground. All she can think, can feel, is _she’s real_. It feel so scary, like she’s trapped and her whole life is out of her control, and it feels so incredibly reassuring that there is someone out there. That she’s really a living person, as intricate, as thoughtful, and as solid as anyone else. This living breathing entity that she’s connected to, who fits her so perfectly that it’s written on her skin. Her whole world is spinning, and flipping and it’s a wonder that she can still see Octavia’s face, and that she hasn’t fallen. It doesn’t feel so unlike being in zero gravity.

 “You’ve met her?” Clarke is quick to respond, Octavia is sure to have felt all she is feeling right now, but it doesn’t mean she has to concede to letting her know how affected she is.

Octavia just laughs, she giggles, comes up for air, apologises, and then laughs again.

 “Sorry, it’s not that funny, just so fucking fitting you know? No I haven’t met her, but I know this all because she’s, the Commander,” although she laughs a bit more, she seems to give Clarke a little sad look as well.

Clarke’s first thoughts, that she’ll never admit to herself ever again is, _that’s hot_ , it’s juvenile and shallow but it’s what she thinks. She then imagines a utopia where they co-lead a new clan of sky grounders taking the best from both and repopulate the earth. But then reality kicks in and she feels _angry._ Red-hot bubbling rage coursing through her veins, clouding her head, and closing her throat. Because she’s killed people, because she’s probably unjustly violent, because she’ll never want peace, because Clarke’s heard she’s heartless, because she’ll be in danger all the time, because she probably couldn’t care less about the Sky people, because what if her obligations forbid her, because what if she won’t like a sky person, because what if she _can’t_ because of politics, because why couldn’t this be easy? Because of so many things that swirl around her chest and for the first time her plastic Lexa, her little plastic sheet of freedom seems to feel so heavy.

Octavia stands by her, wondering if it’s better to leave her or to comfort her. But she’s never been good at doing either so does both.

Lincoln says she’s a good leader, best they’ve had apparently, and that she kills honourably.” She fumbles but she’s trying and Clarke appreciates it but wants it to stop. Octavia decides it’s time to walk away, but adds “Oh yeah and I heard she’s smoking hot,”

Clarke smiles but stays there, thinking about what it all means, she throws off her plastic Lexa, but can’t leave it, so she carries it back to camp holding the vine in her hand with it banging against her thigh, _bom bom, bom bom,_ along with her steps. She confides in Raven, because she’s smart, and because she understands what it’s like to be conflicted about your name. Raven was too headstrong to not get attached to Finn even though that wasn’t her name. She suffered because of it, but she’s also been happy.

It’s nice that she’s here, and not in Mount Weather, but sometimes she misses Wells, and there’s an ache for him and the fact that he’ll never know about her Lexa, plastic or otherwise.

Raven, like most would, Clarke resolves, advises that she should at least meet her, to be open and all that. It isn’t much help, and it isn’t reassuring, but what did she expect?

She decides she’ll just walk into the commander’s tent tomorrow. Surely she can’t be killed once they see her name. Her collarbone vibrates when the sun rises and when the dread subsides it feels an awful lot like excitement.

 

* * *

Lexa knows immediately that it’s her. She’ll know seconds later for sure when she gets a good look at her collarbone, but she feels intrigued and like she doesn’t want her to leave her presence just yet, and its something that’s not indifference and that’s how she knows. It’s _Clarke_.

The star makes sense.

She hopes the box didn’t ruin it.

 

She contains herself because at this present time it doesn’t matter. There’s a war, and she’s pretty but people are dying everyday, and more still will die unless she makes the right decisions.

But then she see’s her collarbone and it’s no longer an abstract play thought, that she chattered about to her brother when she was five.

“Guards leave me with Clarke,” Lexa says before she can think and it briefly hits her that every single person in that room will know why she has dismissed them. It makes her feel weak, but it would be weaker to not acknowledge your other half.   

Clarke doesn’t look uneasy given that she was uninvited, and given that most she’s heard of the commander is that she’s bloodthirsty and uncompromising. But she’s Lexa’s equal, and it makes sense that she wouldn’t let herself show signs of being scared.

The first thing Lexa does it throw her sword down. Clarke wonders if it’s a grounder tradition to symbolise trust or something, so she blindly follows with a serious nod and throws her disarmed handgun on the floor.

It’s not a tradition; Lexa threw her sword at her own volition because she didn’t want Clarke to feel threatened. Lexa almost gives a smile because Clarke is acting intimidating, and she’s gorgeous, and it’s so absurd that this stranger before her is whom she will share everything with and they both know it. Clarke catches her almost smiling and she feels her steps become so light like her collarbone is lifting her up.

“How do the Tree people do dates?” Clarke asks, and holds her breath because Lexa is the leader of thousands of warriors, and perhaps she is not so delighted by the idea of humouring a birthmark and her right hand.

“It is customary to talk, the activity is redundant,” Lexa walks towards Clarke and struggles with the idea of taking her hand or not, the result is an awkward gesture and no contact. Clarke muses that maybe their cultures are not so different.

Lexa ends up teaching Clarke to climb trees, and everything feels so easy. Its shaken and awkward for the first hour, but it feels exactly and nothing like what Clarke or Lexa thought it would.

Lexa scorns herself for breaking her promise to herself and letting Clarke in, but she can’t fight it. She’s part of her. She’s a useless climber at first, and pretends to fall because apparently Lexa’s discomfort is the source of great humour. But she doesn’t give up, she leads well, she wants everyone to live through the wars, and she is eager to learn about most things including the ground.

Clarke ends up having to kiss Lexa first because unknown to Clarke it is disrespectful to reject a kiss from the commander and Lexa wants Clarke too much to have her like that.

It’s in a tent that is protecting them from the acid fog, and Lexa does not trust it but she trust Clarke. It’s been two weeks of forest dates and Clarke knows all about Lexa’s favourite horse, about the first time she beat her brother in archery, and about the first person she ever killed. And Lexa knows all about the Clarke’s favourite wing of the Ark, and which soccer games she watched with her dad.

Lexa has been working out the mountain men’s schedule for the acid fog, so she ordered everyone to take shelter, and hopes that she’s not wrong, although it seems strange to wish for the fog. Lexa is looking visibly uncomfortable in the tent waiting for the fog, until the shadows of the trees and the camp all disappear, Clarke is so proud that she cracked the schedule she has to touch her. Her collar burns and her voice escapes her and mind is high and free, and she just grabs her.

Lexa feels tense but leans in and Clarke hugs her and when their checks graze as Clarke is pulling back Lexa is flushed, and Clarke can’t do anything but kiss her.

Her lips are soft, much like her own, but it’s hot, and additive, and she wants her. She wants every part of her. Clarke trails her hands up Lexa’s arms and wonders if the back of her hand burns like her collarbone. She kisses and kisses her, and Lexa is silent but never breaks for air or slows it down. When Clarke fidgets with the bottom of Lexa’s battle gear or top or whatever they call it, Lexa bumps her nose with her own and whispers some Trigedasleng. Clarke doesn’t know what it means but she knows that Lexa nods and then is suddenly taking her own top off and helps Clarke do the same. It’s too fast and it’s too slow, and it’s so hot, and Clarke wants more but it’s so much and then Lexa stops.

Clarke almost cries as she feels a wave of guilt because she’s pushed her, she should learn Trigedasleng, because she doesn’t know what she just said and she pushed her. She pushed her _Lexa_. But staring back at her is Lexa, ruffled, and wide-eyed, panting, and refusing to loose any contact with her. Their legs are linked, Lexa’s forehead is resting on Clarke’s and instead of providing an explanation Lexa nods towards the vine and the square of plastic around her neck. Clarke laughs in relief and Lexa smile’s fondly at her beautiful half that does not make sense.

Clarke takes her plastic Lexa off for the last time, and tells her real one, the whole story. The factual one of course comes first, but then she tells her of her hopes of the ground, for a sense of belonging, and for everything life promises you, and to have the opposite of everything life promised her. They kiss some more, it’s soft and comforting and Clarke burns for more, and Lexa begs to be consumed, but they go no further, instead Lexa laughs at the memory of Wells talking back to a teacher, and Clarke traces Lexa’s battle scars until Lexa’s swats her because she’s ticklish, and suddenly without realising Clarke can’t breathe because her lungs have emptied at her laughing so much. 

After the fog cleared and Lexa insists that they cannot be gone any longer. Clarke drops the plastic sheet of freedom where the tent lay. It doesn’t feel wrong, and she doesn’t feel sad. It’s her beautiful little plastic Lexa, but the real one is right here, she’s not a perfect faceless person, but she’s hers, and she makes everything feel so easy and light. So thinks of Octavia, and that night she found out she left Bellamy’s badge, and she gets it. She’s ready to move on.

However when Clarke packs up the tent Lexa’s takes it. It may not be the most important thing in the world to her now but Lexa secretly adores the idea of a cute little Clarke wishing for her in the sky.

Clarke thanks her years later because when they undergo the nuptial ceremony it is Lexa’s chosen tattoo (as Octavia tells Clarke, it is traditional for each lover to get a tattoo to symbolise how eternal the ceremony is). Clarke settles for the Commander’s family crest, and loves having her plastic Lexa permanently on her real Lexa’s thigh.

When they finally move in together, the plastic sheet of freedom hangs on the wall. Just as it end up hanging above the cot of their first and only child, it hangs amongst a few stars Lexa cut out of a wolf pelt. Clarke is not ashamed to have grown up on the Ark in the stars, she’s almost proud, sometimes. But she catches herself looking over at Lexa every now and then, and seeing her again for the first time, every line and every smile, and everything she feels so open and free and endless.

She always knew she was destined for the ground, but she can't help but feel so astonishingly lucky.


End file.
